


Paparazzi

by bukkunkun



Series: The Player's Adventures in Offland [7]
Category: OFF (Game), OFF (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Beating, Blood and Gore, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Murder, Non Consensual, Obsession, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Voyeurism, in his own fucked up way, ish lol idk, omfg look at all the tags they're so bad, sappy batter is sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I'll follow you until you love me,<br/>Papa, paparazzi)</p><p>The Batter has appointed himself a new mission--to meet his Player and lay claim to what he rightfully owns.</p><p>Of course, it's not that simple. It never is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on jerkin_off at dreamwidth.
> 
> Also, my first multichapter for OFF! Whoo!
> 
> This is an Offland spin-off, ish? Because player shenanigans, yep.

The final decision had been made, and the Batter couldn't be any happier. His beloved Player had decided to stay by his side until the bitter end, stayed with him through his onslaught on the Judge, and now here they were—standing before the final thing in this almost-purified world, the switch that would end it all. Glancing one last time upwards into space, where he had always believed where his Player had been this entire time, he smiled one last smile at them through crooked, jagged teeth, before flicking the switch.

THE SWITCH IS NOW ON OFF.

* * *

Well, at least, that's what he had in plan. When his eyes opened once again, he realised that he was back at Zone 0, where everything began, and there, he realised, the world had been reset.

The game, as his Player had called it, had started over.

Blinking, the Batter looked around, at the empty world around him, and he hesitated.

He had thought that was it—that flicking the switch had been the end.

Looking around, he saw no one. Not even the Judge, not even Zacharie.

Slowly, a smile of understanding crossed his face. _Ah,_ that must be it. He had done it—he had really purified the world. His sacred mission was over, finished.

But now came the problem—what does he do now? He had done everything he had meant to do, with the help of his most beloved Player of course—

His _Player_.

There, he had a thought—an inkling of an idea, as a grin slowly spread across his face.

Yes, he thought, that was it, his new mission. He was to meet with his Player, the one who had always been there with him the entire time, who treated him kindly and helped him through everything in spite of everything. And if he does meet them, _oh, goodness, when_ he meets them, the purest being he ever had the blessing to lay his eyes on, he could lay claim to what he owns, his beautiful, kind Player. What an honour it would be, he thought, as he began to stroll around the silent Zone 0, a wistful smile on his face. How glorious their bond will be.

The question was, however, _how_ was he going to do such a feat?

He had purified an entire world before, so this shouldn’t be so hard, right?

His smile fell from his face as he began to ponder, just as deep in the room Sucre previously occupied, a deep crack began to form.

The loud sound of earth breaking open shook the entire realm, knocking the Batter to his knees. His eyes widened in surprise and quickly he ran towards the building, where he saw light emerging from Sucre’s old room. Curious, he entered to find a crack embedded deep into the ground, revealing to him a river of wires and floating language, and it was then he knew— _this_ was how he was going to get to his beloved.

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself, and dove in.

* * *

Letting out a satisfied yawn, the Player sat up in their seat, a big grin on their face as they shut the game down, shaking their head slowly in amazement.

“Damn, that was a good game.” They chuckled, “Didn’t expect that plot twist.” Whistling a light tune, they got up from their desk and walked around their messy room, kicking a pair of socks that was in their way as they turned around in place pleasantly before dropping unceremoniously onto their bed. “Damn, OFF’s pretty intense.” They breathed, looking up at their room ceiling as one of their legs (with their sock slipping off but they couldn’t care less) dangled off the side of their bed.

Siding with the Batter gave them a pretty interesting ending, at least. The OFF switch was a great way to deliver the meaning of the game’s title.

“Well, I’ll get into the fandom tomorrow—uh, no.” they peered at the digital clock on their nightstand and laughed when they saw what the time was: 3:00AM. “Later, I mean,” they shook their head, before snuggling into a comfortable position on their bed. “Witching hour, heh,” they chuckled, “That’s a little silly.”

Unfortunately for the Player, they failed to notice their webcam’s LED light suddenly light up when they fell asleep.


	2. Pureté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Batter finds a new hobby alongside watching his Player.
> 
> It's not much better.
> 
> Also, he witnesses something very horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I am an expert in summaries. Yes.
> 
> Also, after writing this I felt horrible and had to lie down, so I'm terribly sorry right now if I trigger anyone with this chapter. What happens here is crucial to the story. (And anon did say go wild, so.)
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing something like this. It's not very pretty. I feel really bad.

Days passed after that, and the Batter watched, and watched, and watched, without fail, from his little corner of the wires and code and floating waves, huddled up in a little ball as he peered through unseeing eyes connected to the programming of the webcam he had tapped into. He could see _everything_ , his Player’s room, their desk, their closet, the door out into the hallway, into the bathroom, and most especially, his Player themselves; and what a sight they were.

Breathtaking.

It was the only word to describe them, the only one the Batter could ever muster to describe his most precious person. It was such an honour to finally see them, a godly gift to actually _watch_ them get on with their life.

* * *

It had started out as curiosity. At first, with wide eyes, the Batter watched his Player do everything in their room—dress in different clothes, undress into undergarments and socks, eat anything ( _and_ everything, the Batter found out with great amusement, usually accompanied with loud sobbing, hiccupping or laughing as they sat and ate in front of their computer, right in view for him) they felt like eating, sleep (the Batter learned that their favourite position to sleep in bed was the sprawled-out position, with bonus pillows, blankets and sometimes body bits falling to the ground, resulting in the Player’s entire body falling off the bed) during random times of the day, and work on other things (he had loved watching his Player’s expression changing as he watched them do work on paper and make crafts of other things, it had shown him a more colourful side of his Player he never got to experience when he was being controlled by them).

In short amounts of time, he had learnt much about his Player.

They loved reading, and sleeping in late, and snuggling in the midst of piles. His Player favoured sweets a lot (especially baked desserts that looked rather sloppily decorated. It looked home-baked, and that made the Batter all the more happier to learn his Player could cook) over other food, and more often than not, they would happily dig into a bowl of cookie mix if they had some with them.

His Player loved pizza and food in square boxes (later he learnt that it was Chinese takeout when he turned the microphone on to hear everything). They loved rocking out all by themselves in their room, prancing around playing an imaginary guitar or singing loudly (and off-key, but the Batter didn’t mind, he found his Player’s voice cracking endearingly adorable) to some tune they decided to blare from their speakers.

His Player loved to go online. They would always stay at the computer, watching some TV shows and emoting over them (there was one time where he almost had a heart attack in panic upon seeing his Player sobbing into a pillow, whining out some name, _Shirluck_ , or something?), or just simply sitting and staring at the screen with a smile on their face.

Those were the times the Batter liked the most; because those were the times he could see his Player properly smiling, and sometimes he liked to pretend they were smiling at _him_.

Things, however, took a different turn, when the Batter realised it had been weeks since his Player took hold of him and controlled him again. The realization sunk in slowly over time as he processed his sudden distance from his Player, and a voice whispered in his head,

 _Keep watching. Wait_.

So he did.

* * *

He never took his eyes off his Player, no matter what happened. Really, there was nothing happening around him anyway, in the darkness of the space within the computer, and for that small detail he was immensely grateful for, especially when things started turning out… differently.

Batter watched his Player get up and off their seat, yawning and stretching in that way he adored so, and he found himself eyeing the small patch of skin that revealed itself as their shirt rode up. He felt his body heat up at the sight of his Player’s skin, and at this he paused.

How odd. He had never felt this way before, when he watched them go through their everyday—and there, he suddenly realised why. It had been weeks, no, _months_ since he last had any social interaction. Suddenly his skin itched for the touch of another— _no,_ the touch of only one—his Player.

He grew hotter, arousal spiking when he saw his Player reach down to pull their shirt off, facing away from the webcam, showing him the expanse of their back, their skin looking so soft and _touchable_ he growled in arousal as he reached for his pants to unclasp his belt and pull them down to release his erection straining through his clothes. He wrapped a hand around his cock as he saw his Player bend down and pull their jogging pants and underwear down, and then their socks, leaving them stark naked in their room.

The thought of his Player, bare, with nothing to cover them from his gaze sent waves of arousal washing over the Batter as he groaned and began to pump his cock quickly, jerking off to the vision of smooth skin, soft flesh, sweet moans and his most beautiful Player—

He came with a loud groan, and when he opened his eyes, his Player had already gone off into the bathroom, where the sound of running water told him they were taking a shower.

* * *

It was voyeuristic, he knew, but the Batter could not help himself. He wanted—no, _needed_ to touch what was his, he needed to mark what was for him to mark; he needed to possess his Player, keep them all to himself, tucking them away from the impurities of the world, for him to cherish for ever.

He started masturbating to the thought of his Player, willing and compliant like he was when they were controlling him in his previous mission of purification, beneath him as they made love over and over again, their sweet voice whispering, moaning, gasping, squealing, giggling, laughing, _screaming_ his name in pleasure as he imagined himself entering them again, and again, and again, without fail.

After all, it was only natural for them to be in each other’s embrace. There are no beings purer than his most precious Player, and with them and himself being the only ones pure enough in his eyes, it was a no-brainer for them to share a most profound bond that would never be broken by any force that would ever attempt to tear them apart.

How sweet, then, it would be, he thought, when the time comes for them to meet, to finally _truly_ touch, to complete their bond and consummate it by their bodies becoming one.

Shivering in pleasure, the Batter came again into his hand. He’s lost count now, how many times he had done this while just watching his Player, but it had felt so _good_ he couldn’t stop—but even so, it wasn’t _good_ _enough._

There were times when his Player would leave their room, nowadays, when the Batter had started masturbating to thoughts of them, disappearing for long periods of time (the Batter had counted eight hours), before returning home, usually with a big bag of food, and another full of books and school supplies. In those times, the Batter allowed himself to sleep, to dream of him and his Player, living together in bliss, in happiness, so in love it was like their world was tinted rose-coloured.

Those were the times he didn’t like so much; his Player was gone for too long for him to like. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it, but patiently wait for them to return home.

He would be patient.

He would wait.

Wait, until he could watch them all over again.

* * *

A knock on his Player’s door to outside their room shook him and his Player out of their respective reveries, and the Batter’s eyes widened. What? What was going on? Why should there be a knock on the door?

His Player, all-smiles, stood up, and the Batter flew into a panic. “No!” he screamed into the space of floating program files around him, “Don’t open the door!”

But, of course, his Player didn’t hear him, and they opened the door, pleasantly welcoming in a person the Batter couldn’t recognise, but his vision went red and all that filled his mind was one word:

_IMPURE._

_IMPURE._

**_IMPURE!_ **

He roared, fought through the cables and coding all around him in a vain attempt to reach out to his Player, but there was nothing he could do but watch as his Player and their guest sat down on their bed together ( _get off_ , Batter hissed) and talk.

Then, the worst thing he could ever imagine happened.

That impure _thing_ leant forward and pressed their lips to his Player’s.

The Batter let out a roar of outrage so loud, it shook all the cables around him.

* * *

“Whoa, hey,” the Player laughed, punching their lover’s shoulder, “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Let’s do it,” they grinned down at them, scooting closer and pressing their arousal right against the Player’s thigh.

“Hey, we’ve only known each other for a few months.” The Player countered, but they were kissed again, and this time they were lowered down onto their bed. “Hey, cut it out.”

“C’mon, complete strangers have sex. We’ve been together for three months.” They grinned, straddling the Player’s hips and pinning their hands down onto the bed. “It’ll be fun.”

“H-hey, no! I said no!”

“You’ll enjoy it,” they insisted. “I promise.”

“Let go of me! I said no!” the Player protested, as their shirt was ripped off their body and tied around their wrists and their bedpost. “This isn’t funny, damn it!”

“Maybe,” the other grinned, “But I’m still laughing.”

* * *

The Batter watched on in horror as he saw his Player being raped by the person they let in, and there grew a burning anger in his chest. He was so _angry_ , he was _furious_ he could do nothing but watch—all he could think of was coming right there and wringing that bastard’s neck before beating them with his bat until its metal surface was bright red, and that sick freak was begging for death.

Even so, despite all the rage that welled up in the Batter, his cock stood up to attention at the sight of his Player taking in their rapist’s sex. Watching his Player having sex (albeit non-consensual) was turning him on easier than flicking a light switch, and soon lust clouded the Batter’s mind as he guiltily reached for his cock and grasped it, pumping in time with the rapist’s thrusts—

The two of them came at the same time.

The Batter watched as the rapist got off his Player, untying them before they swore at them, insulted them, and threatened killing them should they ever tell anyone about what happened, and turned to leave—but then they stopped and smirked cheekily at the Player.

“ _See you again, sweetheart_.” They laughed in the Player’s face, before leaving, slamming the door behind them.

Disgusted with himself the Batter shook his head and punched the walls of wires around him in anger, both at himself and that bastard that laid a hand on his precious Player.

If—no, _when_ he gets there, he vowed, the first thing he was going to do was purify the goddamned bastard. He deserved the Batter’s wrath after what he did.

His anger abated, though, and was replaced with pity when he heard whimpers and soft crying from his Player, and his heart broke upon hearing them sob uncontrollably in bed, not like the crying his Player did over fictional characters (those sort of tears evoked happiness in him knowing his Player was watching something they liked, at least), but real, agonised sobs, their body shaking as pain and bitterness filled their heart and overflowed out of their eyes.

The Batter then made his decision—he was going to get out of this place and into his Player’s world, or he would _die_ trying.


	3. Until You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batter finally makes his way to his Player's world, and sorts out a few problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for more bad things. 
> 
> Mainly blood, but that's better than rape, right?

It had felt like forever when the Player finally stopped crying, their tears run dry and their eyes puffier than they had ever been. They didn’t know what hurt more, their body or heart—what had happened to them was something they never expected would happen to them.

The Player had never really thought of themselves as attractive—passable, _probably_ , if they fixed up for five ours in a salon, but they had really never expected to get into any sort of relationship. What they had with that… _thing_ , they thought it with such disgust they visibly flinched and gagged, they had thought it was _real_ , because they had met not long after they had finished OFF, and they bonded over the game over lunch breaks at university. They thought they had finally found a friend, someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, but now…

They were the reason they were crying. How horribly unfair.

Sniffling, the Player got up slowly and made their way to their bathroom to clean themselves up. They scrubbed at their skin long and hard, leaving it reddened with how hard they were rubbing the scrub against their skin, dry, angry tears prickling at the corner of their eyes as they desperately tried to wash away all the evidence of their rape, but all that plagued their mind was the thought of his hands everywhere, touching, holding, grasping, _gripping_ —

They let out a growl of frustration and fear and despair and sunk to their knees on the tiles of their bathroom floor, warm water showering down on them as it always did, as they curled up into a ball and sobbed again, tears dry but their face wet as they cried and cried and cried until their skin turned wrinkly beneath the water.

They then staggered outside into their bedroom; a towel wrapped hastily around them, and half-heartedly wiped themselves down before pulling on a shirt and a pair of pants before hastily fixing their bed, pulling off the stained covers (with no small amount of disgust) and replacing them with new ones before sitting at their computer, a blank look on their face.

They didn’t know what to do. They felt even more drained than ever, like their soul had left and their insides gone cold.

Limply, they opened Google Chrome, and proceeded to type any sort of URL—but then hesitated. No, they couldn’t rely on others right now. Not right now.

Quietly, they closed the browser and looked at their messy desktop, eyeing each icon, at a loss, before their eyes finally landed on the folder that contained OFF game files.

They blinked at it; once, twice, before sighing, and double-clicking it.

Maybe a round wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

The Batter’s eyes widened, when he felt his world suddenly light up behind him through the crack. A familiar sensation of ropes met his body, and he immediately realised what this meant—

His Player had returned.

Overjoyed, he ran through the crack to return to his Player, and suddenly he found something unfamiliar on the wall of the room—a panel that looked like a plain rectangle. Curiosity overtook his excitement, when his gut instinct told him to enter the rectangle.

Slowly he reached for it, pressing his hand to its surface only to find it could go through. It felt strange on the other side—there was a cool wind at his fingertips, and it felt rather pleasant. Raising an eyebrow, the Batter leant forward more, pushing his face through the panel—

To find himself staring right into his Player’s wide, shocked eyes.

* * *

They didn’t understand what was going on; first the worst thing that could ever happen to them happened, and now _this_ , this… hand going straight out of their laptop like a haunting! Horror choked up their throat as their heart leapt up to clog it, as they watched on, their mouth hanging limply in shock as the hand extended out to them, followed by a familiar, yet unfamiliar face.

Their eyes widened as the head looked up and four pairs of eyes stared into theirs.

“… Batter?” they breathed, unbelievingly, and the Batter stared right back at them, with no small amount of awe in his eyes. “… Is that really you? Are you real?”

“Yes,” he breathed, and his voice sounded just like the Player thought it would—a little deep, rumbling and throaty, with a slight accent they knew came from Boston. “… You’re… you’re my Player.”

“And you’re my Batter.”

“My Player,” the Batter breathed, and he pulled himself through the screen, climbing right into the Player’s comfort zone.

Immediately, images of hands grabbing and holding and choking and gripping and touching flashed through the Player’s mind in sudden bursts and with a strangled gasp they pulled away from the Batter.

“No! Please!” they screamed, shaking uncontrollably as fear gripped their mind, shaking it wildly into haywire as panic seeped in.

 _No, not again, please, no, no not again no I don’t want it no_ —

“Player, it’s just me!” they heard the Batter reassure them, and they felt warm hands on their shoulders, gripping (but not tightly and painfully) them, grounding (but not restraining) them, and calming them down. “… I would never hurt you.”

The tears finally fell again.

The Player’s carefully-built composure crumbled and they leant into the Batter’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably as their arms came around his large body, holding onto him for dear life, like he was the only buoy in the raging sea, burying their face into his tunic (smelling of sugar, and smoke, and meat, and metal, and plastic) and wetting it with their bitter tears of agony.

The Batter pulled them close and wrapped his arms around them, reassuring, _protecting_. Gently, he stroked their hair, rearranging their position on the floor into a more comfortable one, pulling his Player into his lap as he held them close, quietly telling them that they will be alright, now that he was there.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, “I’m here.”

“B-Batter, I’m, I’m,” his Player stammered, but the man shook his head, four eyes holding nothing but love and support and reassurance as he pressed his index finger gently to their soft lips (and _oh_ how soft and wonderful they were, the Batter thought) and kissing their forehead.

“I know.” He murmured, and their eyes, red and puffy, widened. “I know.”

“I-I’m…”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “You are still the purest thing I have ever come to know, Player. And I will protect you from everything that will harm you, because that is now my new mission.”

“W-wait, Batter, how did you—”

“I have been watching,” he admitted, “Always waiting for you to come back to me, so I could find my way to you.” He kissed their forehead, gently wiping away tears that had been falling, but now have stopped, because of the Player’s sudden surprise. “I will find that _thing_ and I will destroy it for you.”

“B-Batter, you saw?”

He nodded gravely. “Everything. You will not believe how angry I was as I sat there, where I was, just sitting by the sidelines, unable to do anything to help you. I hated myself for being so _useless_ to you when you needed it the most.”

His Player laughed sadly. “… Now you know what I feel.”

The Batter’s eyes widened slightly. His Player had felt the same way when they had been purifying his world together? His heart fluttered—he had _hope_.

Gently he chuckled and pulled them close to himself, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll be here for you now, always. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

 _Until you love me as much as I love you_.

“Batter, I… I don’t know what to say.” His Player replied, “I… people don’t just crawl out of computer screens, you know.”

“I’m not just anyone, my Player,” the Batter chuckled, (and marvelled at how nice it was to finally call his Player as such directly to them) “I’m your most loyal Batter.” He closed his eyes and smoothed his hand down their back soothingly. “I will move mountains for you, if I have to.”

His Player smiled sadly, before cuddling into his embrace. “… So you’re staying here? With me?”

“As long as you’ll have me.” And even longer, he wanted to say.

They hummed in affirmation, and snuggled in the Batter’s warmth, they finally fell into peaceful sleep.

The Batter, however, was still awake.

Slowly, gently, without rousing his Player, he set them on their bed and tucked them in, before reaching into the computer screen again to pull out his bat.

It was time for his first purification in his Player’s world—and this time, he knew, it was one he should do without them.

* * *

It was nearing 2 in the morning when he approached his apartment door, wickedly grinning as he thought back to raping his new lover, at how sweetly they screamed and how wondrous if felt fucking them, and congratulated himself on a job well done. He would come back tomorrow; they just felt _so_ good.

He staggered into his house, the world around him tipping and distorting in his vision. He was higher than the EmpireState right now, the rush of drugs still in his system as he clumsily closed his door behind him and flicked the light on—

To find someone standing in his living room, a bloodied bat in their hand and his dog, dead, at his side.

“Heh, man, I must be _really_ high,” he managed to say, before he felt the metal bat come down onto him without mercy.

* * *

The Batter returned to his Player’s home, smiling to himself, satisfied, as he stripped off his dirtied clothes and headed into the bathroom to clean himself up. After a brief shower (sniffing all of his Player’s products and a short wank to get himself off) he dried himself up and pulled on a pair of his Player’s jogging pants that barely fit him. He didn’t mind, though. Just the feel of his Player’s _clothes_ on him was glorious in itself.

He climbed into bed next to his Player, smiling when he saw them moan slightly in their sleep, shifting to the side to allow him space to settle in before cuddling right up against him, calm once more.

“I love you, my Player,” he murmured to them, kissing their hair lovingly. “I’d do anything for you to be happy.”

A few hours later, a few blocks away, a garbage collector would find the dead body of a dog in front of a house’s porch, and a man, beaten—literally—to a pulp right in front of it, the bones piled together in a pile, still with ligaments on them, next to a pile of mushy flesh, organs, and hair. 


	4. Amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batter finally confirms his love to his Player.
> 
> Okay, to tell you the truth, I have no idea what just happened because I've been awake for almost 24 hours now and I'm not thinking straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> serisouly what is going on i can't
> 
> also the player reciprocates yay

The next morning the Player woke up to feeling a warm body around them, but instead of freaking out, they realised they were calmer than ever before, and they looked up to see the Batter big spooning them from the front, shirtless, and wearing their pair of jogging pants.

A light laugh escaped their lips, a laugh more of relief than anything: a laugh of relief upon realising that all that happened last night was not a dream, and that the Batter really had come from their laptop to be with them for days to come.

Apparently the Batter was a light sleeper—his four eyes opened at the slightest vibration of their little chuckle, and a sleepy smile crossed the Batter’s lips.

“You’re awake.” He said simply, and they smiled up at him, nodding.

“Good morning, Batter.” They replied, cuddling close to him, a blissful smile on their face. “Wow. You’re really here.”

“From now on, I’ll always be where you are.” He replied resolutely, and he planted a chaste kiss on their lips. The Player’s eyes widened slightly and they moved back, away from the Batter, images and fear slowly creeping back into their mind. The Batter’s expression turned to one of concern, and he leant forward, pressing their foreheads together, frowning at the flinch his Player did when his skin touched theirs. “My Player,” he softly whispered to them. He could practically feel the fear radiating off his Player’s body. He had to do _something_ about that. “It’s just me. You know I’ll never hurt you.”

“I-I know,” his Player weakly laughed, still trembling despite their words, and that made the Batter’s frown deepen. “I just… it hurts, Batter. What happened to me… it won’t go away just like that.”

“Can’t I try making it go away?” he asked desperately, and his Player sighed, and shook their head, smiling sadly.

“It’s not that simple.” They replied, “It never is.”

The Batter stared them down, his eyes filled with compassion. “But what if I told you I could fix it? I can fix this?”

“Batter, you can’t just run around and ‘purify’ people like it’s no one’s business here.” They told him exasperatedly. “This world and your world work very differently, Batter.”

The Batter fell silent, his four eyes cast down, and his Player shook their head fondly before shyly kissing him back chastely. His eyes widened in surprise at what they did, and a shy, nervous giggle escaped their lips.

“But maybe, we can try. Okay?”

The Batter’s smile was actually a rather endearing sight, the Player thought to themselves.

* * *

“I think it’s best if you didn’t turn the TV on today,” the Batter spoke up as they sat next to each other on the couch, each holding a bowl of cereal in their hands. “You need to keep your mind off things. You’ll end up stressing yourself out.”

The Player laughed weakly, and nodded, leaning onto the Batter heavily as they spooned up a serving of cereal before holding it up to the Batter’s mouth. “Well, then. If we’re going to have to cheer me up without the TV or the Internet, you’re going to have to cheer me up yourself.” They grinned, and the Batter smirked right back at them, setting his bowl of cereal down on the table and snaking his arm around their waist, eating up the spoonful of wheat and milk in one go. Pulling away from the spoon, he lifted his other hand and pulled his Player’s head in, their eyes widening as he pulled their head close and pushed their open lips together, before they felt cereal being passed into their mouth through the Batter’s.

A bright red blush crossed their cheek as the pulled back, numbed in embarrassment, as the Batter smirked at them, clearly proud of his handiwork as he watched his Player swallow the cereal anyway, his eyes trained on the way their throat bobbed as they swallowed.

“Well?” he asked, forcing himself to look up at their face. “I thought you wanted cheering-up and recovery?”

“Sexual escapades weren’t what I had in mind,” his Player mumbled, shrinking back away from the Batter and setting their own bowl down next to the Batter’s. “And besides, you keep kissing me. Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the Batter shrugged, “I love you.”

The Player’s face heated up even more, and the red was so visible, the Batter couldn’t help but laugh, lean in and kiss them again, this time chastely.

“Batter,” the Player whined exasperatedly, and the Batter laughed happily, moving back effortlessly when they lazily swiped at his head. “You don’t really mean that; like, you don’t like- _like_ me that way, do you?”

“If I didn’t love you like this—”

“Don’t call it love!” his Player squealed.

“ _Love_ you like this,” he stressed, “Then I would never have waited.” His Player then fell still and they stared at him, eyes wide.

“Waited?” they echoed, and he nodded, gently taking their hand in his (and silently relieved that the flinch now wasn’t as violent as before) and lacing their fingers together.

“Yes, I was waiting for you—I always have. Ever since the game ended, I had been in Zone 0, just waiting for you to come back to me, to make your presence known to me again.” He explained, looking down at his hands in slight embarrassment for confessing such a thing. “I waited and waited, and I was so lonel… Player?!” he looked up to see his Player staring right at him, tears streaming down their face, their hands balled into fists into a throw pillow so hard their knuckles were stark white. “Why are you crying?” he gasped, rushing forward to wipe away their tears.

“I… I left you… in there… for th-three months,” they hiccupped, holding onto the Batter’s arm. “ _Three months_. You must have been… so…” they shook their head, and pulled the Batter into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Batter. I’m so sorry.”

The Batter’s expression softened and he hugged his Player back tenderly, letting them cry on his shoulder just like he did the night before. “Shh, it’s alright, what matters is that I’m here now.”

“You were waiting for me for so long,” his Player reiterated, “You would’ve…”

“Left you? Forgotten about you?” the Batter asked, “Never. Not for a single moment. You were all that I thought about while I waited. The thought of you, finally seeing you, finally talking to you, finally getting to hold you like this… it was the only thing I was ever holding onto to fight the loneliness.”

“I’m so sorry.” His Player whispered into his neck. “I’ve… I’ve been a terrible Player.”

“No, you haven’t.” The Batter smiled at them, pulling away to do so. “When you were faced with an impossible choice, you still decided to stay by my side. We defeated the Judge together. We purified the world together. That was more than enough for me.” he gently kissed their hair, lovingly smiling as he inhaled his Player’s scent. “You, to me, are the greatest Player I could ever have and would ever wish for.”

Smiling softly, his Player lifted their head to look at him, before shyly leaning forward.

“Promise?” they whispered, their lips brushing his, and the Batter nodded, his eyes looking straight into his Player’s, filled with such honesty and love, it was almost unbelievable for the Player. “… Well, then. Maybe… maybe you _can_ help me move on?” they asked, before pressing their lips against the Batter’s, crawling on top of him and straddling his hips.

Their kiss started off as chaste, mouths closed and unsure, but when the Player’s lips parted for the Batter’s, it suddenly spiked in heat and intensity, and soon, they turned open-mouthed and heated, tongues rubbing against each other sensually as they kissed.

Parting for air, the Player panted, the flush on their cheeks darker than ever before as they looked at the Batter, embarrassed, but expectant.

Their Batter smiled back at them warmly. “Well, since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?”

* * *

“ _Batter_ , nnh, oh, please…”

Breathless moans, sweet and pleading tickled his ear as he slowly slid three fingers in and out of his Player’s back entrance, his fingers wet with sparkling clear lubrication as they slowly prepared his Player for him. Thrusting them shallowly earned him a mewl of pleasure from his Player, and they pushed their arse up for more of his fingers in them.

“Oh, God, please, more…” they weakly begged, their hands gripping the bed sheets white-knuckled shaking in immense pleasure as they felt wave after wave of arousal wash over them, slowly consuming them with a fire they never felt before. “ _Batter_ ,”

“As you wish,” the Batter grunted, half-impatient with want as he slicked himself up and lined himself at his Player’s entrance. This was it—the moment he had been waiting for—

The doorbell rang, and the two froze.

The Player’s eyes widened. “… Oh, my God, I forgot, I had a friend coming over today!” they gasped, sitting up from their bent-over position beneath the Batter, only to let out a squeak of protest when the Batter pulled them back down again, a stern expression on his face. “Batter! Lemme go! I have to get the door!”

“The same thing happened yesterday, and that ended with you getting raped.” The Batter deadpanned, and his Player flinched. He sighed, stroking their bare skin lovingly, apologetically, and he shook his head. “It’s just that… look, I want you to be safe.”

“I will be, don’t worry,” his Player assured, limping up onto their feet and pulling on a pair of loose jogging pants. “Sorry, it’s just that, y’know, this was pre-planned, and I can’t cancel this…” their eyes strayed down to the Batter’s weeping erection, and a sheepish smile crossed their face. “I’ll… I’ll t-take care of that later. Properly.” They cleared their throat, embarrassed, a flush clear on their face, before they turned to go out the door. “Sorry, Batter.”

“It’s alright,” the Batter sighed, “Go on, talk to them and I’ll wait for you here.”

“I make you wait too much,” his Player commented, and he chuckled, shaking his head fondly, before watching them leave the room.

“Honestly,” he sighed, looking out the window at the clear blue sky. “What is another half-hour of sexual frustration to three months, right?”

He was about to laugh at what he said when he heard his Player yell and the sound of something crashing to the ground caused his heart to leap into his throat. Hastily, he got up and out of his Player’s bed and pulled on the pair of jogging pants he had claimed and ran into the bathroom to pick up his bat, still somewhat covered in blood because of his rushed, half-hearted cleanup job he did in there the night before. His tunic was still in the sink, still covered in blood, but he ignored that for now. His Player needed him.

He gripped his bat, sure, before rushing outside their bedroom.


	5. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the end comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, the end is always rather bittersweet, for a writer...
> 
> OH WELL ONTO THE OTHER PROMPTS I DROPPED WHOOPES
> 
> I MISS ZACHARIE

The Player couldn’t help the yell of joy upon seeing their old friend again smiling at them as they opened the door. “Oh, my God! I haven’t seen you in years!” they grinned widely, ushering them in, and the two of them settling down at the kitchen counter on top of tall stools. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been doing great,” they smiled, “I heard you got a new boyfriend.”

The Player flinched, but they shook away their fear to force a smile on their face for their friend. “… Ah, yeah.” They nodded, just as suddenly the Batter rushed out of their room, bat in the air, and an angry expression on his face. “Oh, my God, Batter! Wait!”

They got up hastily, and hurriedly blocked the Batter from inflicting a blow. “What’re you doing?” they hissed at him, their eyes wild with surprise. “That’s my friend you’re going to hit!”

“You yelled! I thought something had happened to you!” the Batter retorted, and the Player shook their head exasperatedly.

“Goddamnit, Batter, could you at least learn to tell the difference between yelling in joy and yelling for help?”

Their friend cleared their throat, chuckling lightly, and the two looked at them, surprised.

“So… I’m pretty sure _that_ guy’s not your boyfriend?” they said, and the Player blinked at them for a moment, unsure on what to say.

“No.” the Batter spoke up for the Player, and for a moment, they thought, something had died in them, but they didn’t know what.

“A-ah, yeah, he’s just, um…” the Player looked the Batter over (and suddenly realised that he was holding his bat. How on Earth did he get that here, and had that bloodstain always been there?) before shrugging helplessly. “He’s just crashing at my place for a bit. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Hm. Sure.” Their friend hummed. “Well, you see, I haven’t really told you what I’ve been up to lately, right?”

“No, not at all,” the Player smiled at them, pulling the Batter along with them as they sat down across their old friend at the counter. “Oh, this is my friend. Just call him—”

“Batter, right?” they asked, smiling slightly, and the Batter’s eyes narrowed at them, and he said nothing. “Interesting tattoos you got there under your eyes. They look like real eyes, but just closed.”

The Batter said nothing in reply.

“Jeez,” the Player’s friend laughed, “A little stoic, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, well…” the Player laughed weakly, elbowing him lightly, earning them an incredulous look from the Batter. Pointedly they ignored him for the time being. “So, how’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”

“Well, you see, I’m a cop now.” They smiled, and beside them, the Player felt the Batter’s arm stiffen up. They raised an eyebrow and looked up at the Batter, but he made no move. “I’m an inspector in the local police department, and I handle special cases.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the Player smiled brightly, turning back to address their friend, “It’s just like you dreamed.”

“Yeah,” their friend smiled half knowingly, and that just confused the Player more. What was going on? They knew that smile their friend always wore when they had something to say that was an answer to unasked questions and only they knew the answer. “It’s a really interesting job,” they said offhandedly, as beneath the table the Player felt the Batter’s hand wrap around theirs. The Player looked up at their Batter, still not looking at them, and they briefly debated with themselves whether or not to ask what was wrong with the Batter, but decided against it after a moment’s hesitation. Shaking their head, the Player turned their attention back to their friend.

“Really? That’s so interesting,” they smiled, “Have you gotten any interesting cases lately?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I have, and I came over here, actually, to ask you about it.”

The Player’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh, wow, you sound just like those investigators on CSI,” they laughed, before settling down as best as they could. “Right. Serious.” They still grinned, and across them, their old friend chuckled at their excitement. “What can I do to help you, _inspector_?” they grinned.

“You see, I’m investigating the murder of a man who was killed just last night.” They pulled out a brown envelope from the bag they had with them and laid it down on the table. “He, and his dog, was killed inside his house and then placed outside on the porch for some reason we haven’t really figured out yet. Go on, take a look.”

The Player winced, hissing as they opened the envelope and pulled the crime scene photographs out, failing to notice the Batter’s hand clenching around his bat once more, tightly, with his knuckles white and his fist shaking. “Man, that’s nasty,” they pulled a face, before looking down at the photos. “Oh, _God_.” They breathed, looking down at the photograph of a pile of bones (still with attached ligaments and torn muscle and blood vessels) piled together on a porch next to a pile of bloody, gooey-looking mush that had bits of eye and hair and brain and stomach poking out of it. “ _Shit_ , man. This is disgusting. Batter, check this out—Batter?” the Player looked up at the Batter, who had now fallen completely still, staring out at nothing behind the Player’s old friend. “… Okay, fine. I guess you’ve seen worse,” they commented, thinking back to Zone 1, where the Elsens had been fooling around with meat, and they shuddered, before turning to talk to their friend.  “What happened to the poor bastard?”

“Reports show that the mashed-up bits are achieved only through blunt-force trauma.” Their friend replied, “The dog got killed that way too.”

“Yikes. So, what is it I can do to help you?”

Their friend fell silent, and the Player cocked their head.

“Hey,” they began, but their friend shook their head.

“I don’t think I’ve even told you who got murdered, silly me,” they spoke up, and the Player shook their head slowly, still confused as to what was going on. They pulled out a police case folder and slid out a written report. “Go on, take a look.”

The Player took it, unsure, and they looked down to see a painfully familiar name. Their eyes widened, and their mouth hung open, as they slumped back in their seat, shock paralysing their entire body as the paper slid out of their limp grip and fluttered to the ground.

“Yes, that’s right,” their friend spoke up. “It was your new boyfriend.” Calmly, they bent down and picked the paper up, “I came here to ask questions, but it seems I don’t even have to.” They pulled out a gun from a holster at their side that the Player had never noticed before and pointed it right at them. “Alright, cease and desist. I’m armed, and I’ve got the right to arrest you.”

“I-I don’t understand, I-I didn’t,” the Player stammered, but their friend shook their head.

“Not you.” They simply stated, before taking a wary step towards the Batter, the gun now pointed solely at him. “Now drop that bat.”

“… Batter?” a weak whisper escaped the Player’s lips in disbelief as they slunk to the ground. How…? The Batter had been with them the entire evening last night… it wasn’t possible…

 _The mashed-up bits are achieved only through blunt-force trauma_.

… Or was it?

“Batter…” the Player weakly spoke up, “What did you do?”

“Purification.” He simply replied, like it was as normal as the weather, and suddenly there in his place was no more the Batter the Player knew, and instead a large snarling beast took his place, snout long like a crocodile, with teeth larger than any finger on a human’s hand.

It was monstrous, and yet, the Player knew, that it was their Batter.

 _Their_ Batter.

Their friend didn’t even have the chance to scream, the poor thing, as the Batter’s wrath came down upon them without a moment’s hesitation, and the sound of metal against flesh filled the room, dull and sharp thuds accompanying snarling and choked-off gasps as slowly bone splintered, and then shattered, muscles tore apart, and organs bled rivers of red.

Silence reigned when the last drop of blood fell from the Batter’s jaws, and for a moment monster and puppeteer looked at each other.

Slowly, the Batter began to approach his Player, transforming back to his old self in a blink of an eye. His body was covered in blood—not _his_ blood but _their_ blood—and his jogging pants—an old pair of the Player’s—were strained over his toned legs, stained burgundy against off-white.

“I love you,” the Batter whispered into the Player’s ear as he crawled over them, lovingly cupping their cheeks in bloodstained hands, smearing redness and wetness on their face as he leant in and pressed their foreheads. “And you are mine, and mine alone.”

The Player felt their insides turn hollow at the sound of the Batter’s possessive tone, and all they could do was silently nod slowly, their body falling lax in the Batter’s hands, now the pliant puppet for the new puppeteer to have and control.

Besides, with two dead people and the police on their tale, what was rape compared to them?

“Why do you fear me? Why do you doubt me?” he whispered to them as he laid them back, slowly stripping their clothes off their body despite the mess he had made not too far behind them. “I am yours, you are mine. Shouldn’t it make sense that I protect what is mine?”

“Yours,” the Player hollowly replied, still unresponsive, and the Batter finally pressed his lips to theirs.

The Player could taste their friend’s blood on the Batter’s lips.

The Batter pulled away from them. “Mine.” He confirmed, his hands letting go of his Player’s cheeks to slide down their skin with the gentleness of a lover’s caress, past their crotch and sliding between their thighs to brush his fingers against their still-lubricated, still-loose entrance. “And now I’ll fully take what is rightfully mine.”

The Player remained silent; what was there for them to say? Everything had spiralled so far out of their control, it was time then, they thought, to hand the reins to the one who they reined before.

He slid a finger in, and suddenly life sprang back into his Player, heat, sizzling and teasing, spread through their body like a wildfire, and they arched like a bow beneath the Batter, mewling in unexpected pleasure. A smirk made its way to the Batter’s face and he slid more of his fingers in, slowly fucking his Player into a moaning, quivering mess beneath him.

“I love you,” he whispered again, and his Player shuddered, as he pulled his fingers out and took hold of his Player’s thighs, spreading them wide to accommodate his girth.

Slowly, lovingly, with a burn so subdued and agonisingly exhilarating, he pushed in, a groan escaping his lips as he felt his Player tightly clench around him.

This was it—the moment he had been he had been waiting for.

He let his Player adjust, and he began to thrust, slowly at first, and when his Player’s moans turned from whimpers to whines, he sped up, angling his thrusts deeper and deeper as he powerfully slammed his hips against his Player’s, earning him louder and louder gasps and moans the more times his cock disappeared into his Player.

“Yes,” he gasped, and he felt his Player’s body convulse beneath him, their walls around his throbbing cock _squeezing_ and what a glorious feeling it was—

They came together.

He pulled out, slowly and gently to look his Player in the eye. They now had a blank expression on their face, blank, seeing, yet unseeing eyes trained at him and yet not looking at him.

He sighed, that will have to do for now. He’ll fix his Player; all it took was his love; that was all he needed. His Player was pure enough to be fixed with just that.

Carefully, he picked his Player up bridal-style, moving slowly and deliberately towards their bedroom like he was afraid a sudden movement would break his most perfect Player.

“Let’s go home,” he declared, coming to a stop in front of the computer, still on ever since last night. “Where we’ll just be with each other… for as long as we live.”

He lowered his Player into the monitor first, before following suit.

All he brought with him back inside was his bloodied bat.

* * *

_And we’re back with the evening news. In_

_street there has been yet another murder in the same manner as the_

_case today at around 2 in the morning. The investigator assigned to this case,_

_age_

_has been brutally murdered in the apartment of their reported friend,_

_age_

_and is now being considered a prime suspect in this case._

_Police are still baffled, however, when they found a bloodied baseball tunic in the bathroom of_

_‘s apartment, and according to reports_

_was not an active person. The placing of these new evidence skyrocketed the case to national concern as now the police launched a nationwide manhunt for_

_. If you have any form of information regarding_

_contact the police at these num—_

The static ceased as a grin cut through darkness. A pair of arms wrapped around a warm body, and lips pressed against each other in a chaste kiss, as the tangle of naked bodies shuffled around in the bed of softness and wires.

“They’re looking for you.”

“I know.”

The grin widened.

“You won’t leave me, won’t you?”

“Never. I’m yours now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, and I, yours. I’ll follow you wherever you go anywhere, anyway.”

“You already have. You’ve followed me until I loved you.”

“Just the way I did.”

Two lips kissed again, twin smirks pressing against each other.


End file.
